


Day 12 - ???

by readbetweenthelions



Series: 30-Day Smut Challenge [12]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Implied Gaby/Illya, Implied Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readbetweenthelions/pseuds/readbetweenthelions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon is not expecting a knock on the door of his hotel room, not at this hour, and not from anyone he knows of, but he receives one anyway. He debates for a moment whether or not to answer it, but ultimately he lifts himself from the armchair in the main room and strides over to the door. He knows better than to check who it is through the peephole, and instead opens the door slowly and from the other side of it.<br/>“Napoleon,” Gaby says as she bursts into the room, wearing only the hotel-issue robe and flimsy slippers on her feet. “I need to talk to you about Illya.”<br/>Napoleon stares at her as he shuts the door behind her. He locks it, just to be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 12 - ???

**Author's Note:**

> the original prompt was pet play and i tried really hard to make it work (with a completely different ship) and everything i was writing was coming out like garbage so i wrote this instead. consider it part of a finished fic, with maybe a prequel and definitely a sequel or two in the works.

Napoleon is not expecting a knock on the door of his hotel room, not at this hour, and not from anyone he knows of, but he receives one anyway. He debates for a moment whether or not to answer it, but ultimately he lifts himself from the armchair in the main room and strides over to the door. He knows better than to check who it is through the peephole, and instead opens the door slowly and from the other side of it.

“Napoleon,” Gaby says as she bursts into the room, wearing only the hotel-issue robe and flimsy slippers on her feet. “I need to talk to you about Illya.”

Napoleon stares at her as he shuts the door behind her. He locks it, just to be safe.

“What about him?” Napoleon asks, carefully. He doesn’t quite know yet why she’s in her robe, but he expects she would have put proper clothes on if she had come here to tell him something serious about Kuryakin as it related to their mission.

“Well,” Gaby says, taking steps across the room until she’s standing very close to Napoleon, “we were just having sex, and – ”

“Oh, you were?” Napoleon says. “It’s about time. Congratulations.”

Gaby waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t say that. Just listen to me.”

Napoleon shrugs and she reaches out for his shirt, undoing the buttons starting at the top. Is she coming on to him? Did she come here wanting _sex?_ Just how horny is she, if Kuryakin couldn’t satisfy her? Or maybe – just how bad is Kuryakin at sex?

“Have you noticed anything… _weird_ about him?” Gaby asks, her fingers already working at the button above Napoleon’s navel. Napoleon doesn’t stop her, but doesn’t touch her back either – he only holds his hands in the air at his sides, as if he were being held at gunpoint by police.

“Everything about him is weird,” Napoleon says diplomatically.

“No, I mean _specifically_ ,” she says. She pops open the last button above his belt, then untucks his shirt from his pants. “Have you noticed anything weird about the way he interacts with women? I mean, has he ever told you he’s _attracted_ to a woman?”

“He doesn’t talk to me about that sort of thing,” Napoleon says. “And I don’t see him around too many women other than you. And considering the two of you were just having sex – ”

“That doesn’t count,” Gaby says, undoing his belt with a swift tug and letting it slither out of his belt loops. “I mean at any other time, with any other woman.”

“Can’t say I’ve noticed it – ah.”

Gaby’s hand palms Napoleon’s cock through his pants, but her chatter shows no signs of slowing down. “So he’s never said that he’s attracted to women, or looked like he’s attracted to a woman. Has he ever even said he’s attracted to _me?_ ”

Napoleon opens his mouth, then stops to think for a moment. “I can’t say I follow where you’re going with all this,” he says. “But I _am_ interested in what you’re doing with my cock – ”

“I just needed to come up here and get myself finished off,” Gaby says. Her hand is _very_ firm on his cock and Napoleon can feel himself getting hard. “Since I know _you_ know how to please a woman. Illya doesn’t. Illya has never been with a woman before. He told me. Don’t you think that’s strange? An attractive guy like him?”

All of this is certainly strange, and that’s just taking _Gaby’s_ behavior into account, let alone Kuryakin’s. Gaby bursting in here, wanting sex and wanting to talk about Kuryakin all at the same time, is not exactly how Napoleon had imagined the rest of his day would turn out. Napoleon feels like he’s had dreams like this, though. A pretty woman showing up to his door wanting to have sex for no reason at all – _and_ the chance to gossip about Kuryakin. Is it his birthday?

“I have to be honest, darling,” Napoleon says, “it isn’t really doing much for me that you keep talking about our mutual colleague, who you were _just_ having sex with, and I presume not too long ago, if he didn’t even finish you off and here you are, needing to be finished. But I don’t suppose I can really say no to a woman who needs an orgasm.”

“If you can’t say no, then get to it,” Gaby says.

She grabs one of his wrists and pulls it down between her legs, letting him stroke up the inside of her thigh, then spreading her legs apart a little to encourage him to touch even higher. Napoleon’s fingers slip between Gaby’s lips easily. She’s wetter than water and Napoleon almost groans with excitement as he rubs her pussy, paying special attention to her already-hard clit.

“You know, he seemed hesitant the whole time?” Gaby says. She undoes the button of his pants and pushes them down, letting them fall around his ankles. “But he’s the one who initiated it. I mean, I’ve been trying to get him to initiate it for _months_ , but why would he act that way if having sex was his idea?”

“I have no idea,” Napoleon murmurs, blissfully. This is his personal heaven. She’s so wet already, and he can feel the pressure of her strong thighs around his hand. He wants to be _inside_ her. She grinds against his hand and shifts forward a little until his fingers are pushing at her entrance and then slipping inside her.

“I’ll tell you what my theory is,” Gaby says. She’s jerking him off through the fabric of his boxers, making sure he’s thoroughly hard, but Napoleon is more focused on pushing a pair of fingers deep inside her than on his own cock. “I don’t think he likes women. I think he’s more of a _confirmed bachelor_ , if you get my meaning.”

Napoleon crooks his fingers inside her, rubbing rhythmically at her most sensitive spot and pulling a moan from her throat. “So you think he likes men.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I think.”

Napoleon considers that for a moment. Well, he supposes it’s not entirely out of the question. Gaby _is_ right that Napoleon has never seen him show an interest in women, apart from Gaby, but that could all have been an act. Their engagement was, on the mission in Rome. And if he really _does_ like men, faking an attraction to Gaby could be the perfect cover.

“Can I take this robe off you?” Napoleon says, tapping the spot where it’s tied together around her waist with his free hand.

“Sure, whatever, go ahead,” she says. “But doesn’t that make so much sense?”

“Mm,” Napoleon murmurs, undoing the tie of her robe.

“Never been with a woman, but he _definitely_ knew how to initiate sex. Fooled me, that’s for sure. Maybe he’s _had_ sex, but just not with _women_.”

Napoleon opens her robe and she lets it fall from her shoulders, landing in a heap on the floor around her feet. Napoleon leans back a little and admires her body: small and lithe with cute, perky breasts. On the small side, but Napoleon can’t say he doesn’t like them that way. He speeds up the motion of his fingers inside her and bends to kiss her neck.

“But I mean, if he’s gay, then why did he want to have sex with me?” Gaby muses. “Do I look like a man?”

“Believe me, you don’t at all,” Napoleon says, lips brushing her jaw just in front of her ear.

“I just don’t get it,” Gaby says. “Even if he’s trying to hide it, why go that far?”

Napoleon doesn’t really know what Kuryakin’s reasons behind wanting to fuck Gaby would be, if they weren’t for the sole sake of the act. Napoleon is certainly driven much more by the act itself, and while he can appreciate wanting to gossip about Kuryakin to a certain point, this is getting to be a little much.

“Can we take this to the couch, at least?” he asks.

She nods. Napoleon leads her to the couch, laying her out on it and curving his back to bend and take one of her small, dark nipples into his mouth, still working his fingers inside her.

“Do you think we should talk to him about it?”

Napoleon lifts his head and looks at her, leaving off his sucking at her breasts. “You’re just going to ask Illya Kuryakin, top Russian spy and potentially the most deadly and terrifying person on this Earth, if he’s a homo.”

“Well,” Gaby says. “When you put it like _that._ ”

“I just don’t think that would go well for you,” Napoleon says. Gaby shifts her hips and pushes Napoleon’s fingers inside herself a little more, sighing when he rubs hard against her sweet spot.

“Napoleon, could you finish me off already?” Gaby says. “Foreplay is nice and all but I just want to get off.”

Napoleon feels a rush of excitement that goes straight to his dick. Demanding women make him weak at the knees, and Gaby definitely knows what she wants and when she wants it and how to make him do it.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He kisses a line down her stomach and over her mound, then spreads her open with his fingers to get his mouth on her pussy, soft pubic hair brushing his face as he licks a long stripe over her pussy from the bottom to the top, stopping to fix his lips over her clit and suck. His body flushes with delight when she gives a soft moan.

“You taste delightful,” he tells her, taking his mouth away for only a moment.

“Thanks.”

She shifts her hips a little to give him a better angle, and he flicks his tongue over her clit. He shuts his eyes to savor the moment, with the taste of her on his tongue and the smell of her in his nose and the hot, wet tightness of her around his fingers.

“I don’t know how we didn’t see it before,” Gaby says. “It makes perfect – damn, you’re good with your tongue, much better than him… but I guess that makes sense, if he’s into cock.”

Napoleon tries not to think about Kuryakin, despite how much Gaby still wants to talk about him. Napoleon sucks at her clit and mouths at her inner lips, curves his fingers inside her against her inner walls and feels her hips jump.

“Should I talk to him about it, or – ah! Fuck – do you think he’d – _ohh_ – take it better if it was coming from another man – mm, God, Napoleon, you’re so good…”

Napoleon can feel her tightening around his fingers, so he doesn’t lift his mouth away from her pussy to answer her question. She’s moaning uninterrupted now, her issues with Kuryakin momentarily forgotten as her speech gives way to a series of gasping moans. He continues to suck hard on her clit and stroke his fingers inside her until her back arches and he feels her tighten and pulse around his fingers as she comes.

Gaby gives a contented sigh as she relaxes from her climax. She lifts her head from the throw pillow it’s resting on and looks down at him where he looks up at her from between her legs.

“I’m really starting to see why you’ve always got screaming women in your room at all hours,” she says. “I promise I’m not usually this loud.”

“Be as loud as you want, Gaby.”

Napoleon pulls his fingers out of her, gently and slowly, and licks her cum off of them. She watches him, her chest still heaving as he catches her breath.

“That was good,” Gaby says.

“I know,” Napoleon says. “Hmm. But I get the feeling you’re not quite done with me.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Clearly. You’re a little high-strung, darling,” Napoleon comments. “How do you want me next?”

Gaby lays her head back on the throw pillow, settling in once again. She spreads her legs wide, showing off. “How about you fuck me?”

“Absolutely,” Napoleon says with a smirking grin.

Napoleon sits up and tugs down his boxers, letting his erection fall free of them. He discards the boxers altogether after he’s shimmied out of them. He positions himself between her legs, trailing fingers up her thighs until his hands come to rest gripping her where her legs meet her hips.

“Yours isn’t as big as his,” Gaby says, looking down between her legs to examine him. Napoleon wonders if he’s supposed to be flattered at that. “But I hope you know how to use it a lot better.”

“No one’s is as big as his,” Napoleon shrugs. He bends toward her to press a kiss to her neck.

Gaby stops him with a palm flat on his chest. “So you’ve seen it.”

“We’re _men_ ,” Napoleon counters. “I’ve seen it. There’s a lot of opportunities.”

“He said _you_ said he looked like a draft horse,” Gaby says. “When I told him that he looks like a draft horse.”

“When did I…?” Napoleon says, trying to remember when he would have made such a comment. In a flash, he remembers a mission a few weeks ago where only communal showers had been available. It’s hard not to look in those situations, but Napoleon isn’t squeamish about it. And Kuryakin _is_ hung, and rather strikingly like a draft horse, even when flaccid. “Oh, right. The showers.”

Gaby raises her eyebrows at him.

“Shall I just get to it?” Napoleon asks, to change the subject.

Gaby nods and curls her legs around Napoleon’s waist, drawing him closer. He leans over her and kisses her full on the mouth, letting her have what’s left of the taste of her own pussy on his lips and tongue. Napoleon steadies his cock with one hand and rubs it against her inner lips, gathering the wetness there – and she is so, _so_ blissfully wet, especially after her climax. She slips a hand up his spine to rest at the nape of his neck, her fingers playing in the short hair there, and Napoleon slowly pushes inside her.

“Mmn,” Gaby murmurs as he bottoms out inside her. “Yeah, that’s it…”

“Tell me what happened,” Napoleon says, rolling his hips against hers, fucking her smoothly and deeply. “You’ve only given me bits and pieces.”

“Well,” Gaby says. “We were just in the room, and he kissed me.”

“Mm,” Napoleon says, lifting one of her legs to hook her knee over his shoulder.

“And then he started to touch me and I thought, ‘ _finally,’_ because, you know, it’s been so _long_. It’s been like torture, having this big, sexy guy in my room all the time since Rome and sometimes he gives me this look, and, well – it’s been a long time since I’ve had a man. Or at least longer than I’d like for it to have been.”

“Mm-hmm,” Napoleon replies, lifting her other leg over his other shoulder to match the first.

“So I wanted him to touch me,” she continues. She doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that now any weight not supported by her legs over Napoleon’s shoulders is being borne on her own shoulders, so Napoleon continues thrusting into her, picking up the pace a little. “I mean, I really _wanted_ him.”

“Right.”

“Things were going pretty well. Like I said, he sure knew how to get me in bed. But then he just… didn’t know what to do when we got there.”

“Oh?”

“I had to coach him through fingering me,” Gaby says. “And through eating me out. Which, you know, a lot of men don’t do anyway – they jump straight to fucking like they don’t know foreplay exists. But that was the first problem. Illya wasn’t even _hard_.”

Napoleon raises his eyebrows. She’s at just the perfect height for him with her legs slung over his shoulders, and he holds her still by her hips and fucks her, angling himself upwards inside her to make sure the head of his cock is pushing against her best spots.

“So he eats me out, and it was okay, I didn’t get off but it was good foreplay, you know? So I ask him, does he want to fuck me.”

“Mm.”

Napoleon lifts one hand from her waist to rub his fingers over her clit, matching his movements to those of his hips. She cries out a little at first, but soon settles into it, her hips rocking against his hand and his cock inside her.

“He still wasn’t hard, which was strange,” Gaby remarks. “So I waited for him to get himself there. And I decide, ‘you know, I’m going to ride him.’ And I do. And I’m no dead fish in bed.”

Napoleon looks down at her little body, admiring again her tan skin and the muscle under it that she earned working as a mechanic. “No, you most definitely aren’t,” he says.

“So I know _I_ was good. But he could barely get it up and keep it that way. So I’m thinking, is it me? I’ve never had this problem with any other man, so I don’t think it’s me. So why?” Gaby says. Napoleon opens his mouth to offer an explanation, but Gaby interrupts. “I’ll tell you why. He didn’t want to be with me, Napoleon, which is why I am confused. Why start things with me if he didn’t want to do it? It’s not like I forced myself on him!”

“No, you’re right,” Napoleon says. He dips his fingers lower on her pussy for a moment, gathering more wetness before returning his fingers to her clit.

“So we go for a while, and then I ask him, ‘are you going to come?’ and he looks at me and then – he shakes his head! No, he’s not going to come! I couldn’t believe it! A man, not going to come when he’s fucking a woman!”

“I certainly don’t understand it, either,” Napoleon says, looking down between them where his own cock is pushing into Gaby. Napoleon would personally rank having a good woman among the top three feelings in the world, along with a good scotch and a good heist, and he’s beginning to see why Gaby was so worked up – and sexually frustrated – in the first place, if Illya couldn’t even satisfy _himself_.

“So I told him, why is he wasting his time then?” Gaby says. “I was mad, so I left. And then I came here.”

“You just left him there?” Napoleon says. “How cruel of you.”

“I needed to talk to you, and he wasn’t getting off anyway,” Gaby says. “And – mm, you’re doing a much better job for me.”

“So now you suspect him of liking the company of men. Exclusively.”

“Well, whatever it is, he certainly doesn’t like women!”

“Look, I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal,” Napoleon says, thrusting into her with every few words. “I’ve had men before, plenty of them, but – ”

Gaby blinks up at him. “Excuse me?”

“Being with men is fun,” Napoleon shrugs. “I’m sure you know that. You’re having fun with one right now.”

“Well, yes – but I’m a _woman._ ”

“So?”

“But you’re not – ” she stammers, “you like women.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Was it – for a mission?”

“Sometimes,” Napoleon says. “I know I’m guilty of mixing business and pleasure, but not always.”

“So then – ”

“I like both, Gaby.”

Gaby is silent for a moment while she considers. She seems to struggle with it for a moment, eyebrows knitted, then comes to a sort of curiosity.

“So, wait,” Gaby says. “How did you know the men you’ve been with were – you know.” She waves a hand. “Were they all – sort of, feminine, or is there some kind of – code…?”

“Well, mostly, I knew because they wanted to have sex with me,” Napoleon says.

Gaby props herself up on her elbows, watching him with purpose glowing in her eyes. “If you’ve been with men, wouldn’t you know better than anyone if Illya is – you know – gay?”

“Well – I mean, not – look,” Napoleon grimaces. “Remember how I said the men I’ve been with _wanted_ to have sex with me? I hate to break it to you, but Peril’s never made any advances.”

“Then you should seduce him! And see if he responds to it!”

Napoleon stops his thrusting and stares at her. “Are you kidding? He would kill me. He would, quite literally, pick me up and snap my spine over his knee. Are you trying to get me killed? Is that what you want?”

“Napoleon, come on, he’s _sexy,_ ” Gaby begs. “You’ve seen him! You must think he’s sexy!”

“He _is_ sexy,” Napoleon says, then shakes his head. “No, I’m not doing it.”

“Napoleon, if I can’t fuck him, someone has to,” Gaby says.

“No,” Napoleon refuses, and begins to fuck her again, a little harder and with a pair of fingers rubbing circles over her clit.

“He needs it, Napoleon, please!” Gaby grabs onto his wrist, tugging at him like a child begging for an expensive toy. “Think about how long it’s been since he got any. From a man, I mean. Men like him – who like men – aren’t exactly _everywhere_ – ”

“I beg to differ – ”

“It must be so difficult! You can have women at least, but he obviously can’t – ”

“He’s never said that.”

“Well, I felt it. Do it for _him!_ ”

“I’m not doing anything for him.”

“Ohh – do it for me, then.”

“Darling, I’m not going to – ”

“Napoleon – ”

“I won’t do it, Gaby – ”

“No, ah – Napoleon, I’m _coming_ – ”

Napoleon feels her tighten around him and her fingers grip tight around his wrist. She whimpers, her eyes squeezed shut, and her back arching. Gaby tosses her head back on the pillow, hair fanning out under her head, and moans while he fucks her through her orgasm. When she has finished and is beginning to recover, she lifts her head slowly, as if coming out of a fog.

“Damn, you’re good,” she says, still a little breathless. “How do you do that? Is it the angle? How you move your hips?”

“Mm.”

Napoleon is getting close to his own orgasm and doesn’t have much energy to spare to explain his sexual prowess. He holds firmly on to her waist, supporting her back and pulling her as hard against him as he can, pushing as deep inside her as possible.

Napoleon lowers her gently to the couch and then pulls out of her, pumping his hand hard around his cock to finish himself off. His cum pools on her stomach, where it will be easier to clean off than if he had gotten it on this expensively-upholstered couch below them. He gives a few panting breaths but otherwise recovers quickly from his release.

Gaby traces her fingers up his arm until they come to rest gripping his bicep. Napoleon leans down and kisses her, careful not to smear his cum between their bodies. Gaby’s kiss is still hungry and urgent, and her legs hooked around his pull him close, not ready to let him go just yet.

“You’re still all wound up,” Napoleon says. “Do you want another?”

“If you can give me another.”

“Oh, I can, and I will.”

Napoleon kisses down her body from between her breasts to her ribs to her navel. He starts with cleaning his cum from her stomach with his tongue, swallowing it away while she watches with interest.

“That’s – ”

“Relax. I don’t mind the taste.”

He kisses down the rest of her body, his hands running along the backs of her thighs and coming to rest gripping her ass. He pulls her just a little closer and bends his neck and slips his tongue between the soft lips of her pussy once again. Gaby cries out immediately when he gets his mouth on her. She must be oversensitive after two orgasms, but she doesn’t try to stop him.

“Why didn’t he just tell me?” Gaby asks.

“It’s not that easy to just come right out and tell someone you like men,” Napoleon says, his lips brushing against hers. “Especially to the woman who wants to have sex with you.”

Gaby scowls. “You told me pretty easily.”

Napoleon scowls right back. “That’s not the same. Peril and I are not the same.”

“I think you should talk to him, at least,” Gaby says. “Man to man.”

“He’s not going to say anything to me,” Napoleon says, rubbing her clit with his fingers when he has to lift his mouth away from her to speak. “He’ll just get angry. The aforementioned spine-snapping will occur.”

“Then _I’ll_ talk to him.”

“It won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Because you left him in that room all by himself to come down here and fuck me.”

Gaby opens her mouth to argue and can’t think of anything to refute Napoleon with. Napoleon bends and licks at her again, hoping to distract her from this ridiculous idea of confronting Kuryakin about all this. No doubt Kuryakin just wants to forget about the whole ordeal. There’s no chance at all of him coming clean about liking men – if he does.

Gaby falls silent a lot sooner this time, struggling with her own body to let her have her third orgasm without much room in her head for the encounter with Illya. Napoleon doesn’t let up, keeping his mouth locked against her pussy, tongue flicking expertly wherever it draws the most noise from her throat.

“Oh my God – keep doing – _Napoleon…_ ”

Gaby swears in German as she comes, and with an ease and fluidity that surprises even Napoleon. He keeps his tongue on her until her body stops shuddering and starts to unwind.

“You have a dirty mouth,” Napoleon says, licking the last of her cum from her lips.

“I’m a mechanic,” Gaby says. She pants and waves a hand as if to brush away his criticisms. “It comes with the territory.”

“Satisfied now?”

“Very.”

“How about we take this to the bed,” Napoleon suggests, “and we can relax for a little while?”

Gaby nods, stands on shaky legs, and totters over to the bed. She falls face first into the sheets, exhausted. Napoleon slips into bed beside her, running a hand up her spine and coming to rest gently on the back of her neck.

“Thank you,” she says, voice muffled in a pillow. “God, that was what I needed from Illya in the first place. You’re as good as they say, Napoleon Solo. Better, even.”

“Thank you,” Napoleon says. “And you’re welcome.”

“A girl could fall in love with you after sex like that.”

“Oh, they do.”

“I’m sure. Now I see why women are always giving you their deep, dark secrets.”

“I don’t think it’s the sex that gets them,” Napoleon says, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

Gaby grins at him. “So you’re a cuddler, Mr. Solo.”

“You bet I am.”

He wraps one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, pulling her into an embrace with the full length of their bodies pressed to one another’s.

“It’s good to have arms around me,” Gaby says, settling in. “Manly arms.”

“I _am_ quite manly, aren’t I,” Napoleon says. His chest puffs out proudly.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Gaby says. “Remember that I went for Illya before I went for you.”

Napoleon sniffs. “You women have such cold and fickle hearts.”

He feels Gaby shrug against him, accepting his observation. They lay that way for a while, with her folded in his arms and her face buried against his neck. It’s comfortable, and peaceful. Napoleon always sleeps better with a woman in his bed, after all.

“I still think you should talk to him,” Gaby says. Her voice is a little sleepy and her breath warm and sweet against his neck, and he savors it for a moment without processing what her soft voice is saying. “The world doesn’t understand men like him. And it doesn’t go easy on them. But he needs someone to understand him, Napoleon.”

Napoleon grimaces. As much as he fears a patented Kuryakin Spine-Snapping, he knows Gaby is right. Kuryakin might not want to talk, but Napoleon should give him the opportunity to, at the very least. He kisses the top of her head and silently resolves to do a little reconnaissance regarding Illya, first thing tomorrow morning.


End file.
